a thunderstorm
by LividTears
Summary: Rain trickles down the window as Quatre thinks of life, war, and purpose...learning that love can concur it all. [not as lame as it sounds! PLEASE R&R!]


A/N: Hiya! Let's see....I've had this in my head for quite awhile, so I needed to get it out. Umm, I really hope it's not too confusing (you'll see why), hehe. ^.^ Anyways, R&R pleez!  
  
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em, wanna own 'em. Guess what? I can't.  
  
a thunderstorm~  
  
Water, it slides down the window pane, leaving a slick, wet surface, cold and slippery, coating every squre inch. It pools at the ledge, forming crisp, translucent puddles of drops, swimming around at the impact of every falling tear. The clouds are grey, and they cover the normally blue sky, but then again, what things in this world aren't grey?  
Pounding, creating a rythymic beat, drops tapped against the tiled roof of his mansion as he leaned his forehead against the glass of the window, blonde locks and azul eyes reflected in the sheer smoothness. Trees, bushes, flowers, every part of nature was covered in the wetness the thunderstorm was bringing, water clinging to every leaf, every twig, every speck of dust. There was no sign of any animals, they had all intelligently taken refuge, sensing the storm, instinct informing them of the danger of staying outside during a storm.  
Lightning lighted up the earth, from horizon to the never-ending line of clouds, thunder soon followed, its forked line of light decorating the scene before him. He sighed tiredly, and blinked with heavy-lidded eyes.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
He opened his eyes and gazed out into the emptiness known as space. The endless universe was speckled with dots of lights, the only source of illumination besides the florescent lighting of the spaceship. Strange, he thought he was watching a thunderstorm...but maybe that was a dream... There were so many frequent dreams now that it was hard to distinguish between the real world and the dream world. Though both seemed unreal.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
He lifted his hand, fingers sliding against the glass pane, his breath forming mists of condensation on the surface. The storm hadn't lifted, and water continued to pour down, endlessly, puddles forming on the steps of the mansion, drowning the beautiful flowers and plants in the garden. Thunder sounded once more, and the lights in the room flickered, then went out, leaving him in the shadows.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
He traced the stars absentmindedly, connecting the speckles with his fingers, making pointless shapes and figures. His mind pounded, and it would seem like he had a headache, but he knew it was only his brain thinking.  
War. What kind of shit was it? Humans pit against humans, fighting, thrashing, killing, murdering. Why had Allah created the universe, put humans on the world...only to have them kill eachother, bite off eachother's heads? The irony of it, Allah had given humans life, and yet, they took it away with their own hands. Blood stained the lives of evil and common people alike, corruption followed at the heels of many, polluting the air and suffocating. The world was a dreary place in times of war.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
He stood in the dark, seeing nothing but the wet world outside of his window, for the inside of the room was black. He sighed, and turned his head, eyes gradually adjusting to the lack of light. He could barely make out outlines of the furniture in his room, shadows blanketing the walls and floor. He made no motion to move, but to stay still in the black.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
What was a soldier's purpose? Kill, murder, assassinate. But what of when the war was over? What would be the use of going on fighting? But a soldier knows nothing else but to fight. So, does war really have an end?  
He pressed his forehead against the glass dividing him from the airless space. He could barely make out different colonies, and he could see the sun burning with white-hot heat.  
Another mission, one after another, where was the end? Who will repair the damage done afterwards? ...If there is an end?  
The world is a lonely place...every man for himself, it's either you eat or get eaten. And no one wants to get eaten.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Finally, he moved, barefeet making tiny imprints in the padded carpet. He knew this room by heart, and needed no light to find what he was looking for. The wooden cabinet door creaked open, and he reached in. Fingers encircling a small object, the waxen surface was smooth against his skin, and he carefully set it on the window's ledge, taking a match from his left hand. He slid the wooden match against the hard sand of the box, producing enough friction to ignite a flickering flame, eating at the wood it was set on, eating to live.  
The thread attached to the candle flared as he carefully lit the candle, drawing the match to his face as he blew out the tiny flame, smoke curling upwards before dissolving into the air.  
The light from the candle burned, its small flame being the only source of illumination in the room.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Hopeless. That's what it all was. Continuing to fight on... No one to look after himself but himself... No one to count on, no one...  
He gazed upwards at the glass, sensing another presense entering the room, his reflection outlined in the glass. The approaching teen's face was blank behind a long bang covering one of his dark green eyes.  
"Quatre, we're almost at L2..." his voice faded as he noted the tension blanketed over Quatre's soul, "Quatre...Are you alright...?"  
Quatre turned from the glass pane and the other teen's breath caught to see tears streaming down Quatre's cheeks, pearly drops making their way downwards before falling and splattering onto the cold floor.  
He let his blank face fall, letting it be replaced with a look of pure concern, as he made his way over to Quatre.  
He only nodded his head, showing that he understood, and held out a hand to answer the unsaid. Quatre approached slowly, taking the outstretched hand. "Thank you...Trowa....."  
Trowa pulled him closer, encircling him, capturing Quatre's lips with his, and gently wiping away the salty tears with his thumbs, proving Quatre wrong, that there was someone...always... ~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
The candlelight continued to burn, and pools of hot wax gathered at the top, heated by the wavering flame. Rain continued to fall, rain that gushed over the top of the rain gutters, so much in a hurry to hit the earth that it had no time to flow down the spout. He continued to watch nature at its work, wondering if the rain would continue to fall forever...  
Suddenly, a small gap appeared in the grey clouds, and sunlight broke through, first weakly, but growing bolder and bolder as it continued to envelope the grey landscape, and soon, light touched the earth, bathing it in its warmth. The lights snapped back on, but he reached for the switch, turning off the electricity, wanting to illuminate the room with natural light.  
Shortly, the waterfall cascading out of the gutters halted, and he could clearly see the breathtaking serenity before him, but perhaps not clearly enough, for he unlatched the window's locks, pulling upwards to open the window dividing him from the world, surprisingly warm air flowing into the room. Rain coated the outside world, rain that had washed away the dirt and dust of the world. Birds twittered in the garden, and flowers bloomed open again, soaking in the freshness of the rain and sun at the same time.  
Water-crusted grass shimmered and sparkled in the new-awakening sun, reflecting diamond colored light, beautifully adding color to the once grey world. The air was damp, and Quatre watched contentedly at the beauty of nature continue to live on.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Softly they broke the kiss, knowing perfectly well that there was a mission ahead, a mission to complete. Quatre nodded for Trowa to go ahead, and that he would be alright. Trowa's steps slowly faded into the hallway as he left the room, preparing for the worst that could happen.  
Quatre smiled for the first time in a long time, faith teling him that there was humanity in every person, and each person had a sense of heart, no matter how cruel. Because of that, a soldier can stop fighting...when the time comes...and perhaps...now wasn't the time.  
He took one last glance at the space outside of the glass, seeing the boy watching a thunderstorm in his reflection.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
A/N: Didja get it?? It's like two alternating scenes in Quatre's life. I really hope you guys caught all the metaphors in there!! ^.^; Umm, let's see, I plan to keep this a one-shot, but if I get enough reviews telling me I should, I could create a second part or a sequel or sumthin' like that, juss tell me wut you guys think in a REVIEW PLEEZ!! thanx so much guys. ^.~ 


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